


The Sun

by Serie11



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Don't Forget 03 Oct 11, Duality of Character, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Tarot, Trans Character, Trans Edward Elric, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 13:59:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: The Sun represents clarity, positivity, and success. In reverse it can mean depression, pessimism and negativity





	The Sun

 

Edward wedges himself into the corner of the entrance of the military barracks, trying to get out of the rain as much as he can. Like always when it’s wet, his shoulder and leg are aching, a deep pain that throbs along with his heartbeat, a constant reminder of what he’s done.

He’s waiting for Mustang, but of course the bastard can’t even arrive on time. He’s probably being all prissy about getting wet. Him and his dumb gloves. Well Ed is here trying to avoid getting soaked and not really succeeding, just because the bastard insisted that he be here today. The next time he’s pissed at Mustang about something (which won’t take very long), he’s going to dump a whole bucket of water over his head. See how his hair stands up to that.

A car pulls up at the kerb. Ed can only just see it through the rain – the headlights give it away more than anything. Ed squints through the rain, and sees Hawkeye get out of the driver’s seat and run around to the other side of the car to unfold an umbrella. Mustang gets out of the car and ducks under the umbrella, the two of them squeezing together in the small space.

Ed narrows his eyes as they bend their heads together, at ease, comfortable together even in the small space.

_Huh_ , he thinks to himself.

Mustang lifts an arm and beckons Ed to come over, through the rain without an umbrella. He snorts to himself. Even if Mustang can understand Hawkeye, he’s still a bastard at heart.

* * *

 

Ed sits in the corner of the hotel that they’re staying in this week. He can’t remember what it’s called, and he doesn’t care. Even though it’s sunny outside, to him it seems muted, far away. He’s supposed to be reading some of the new books that he and Al found yesterday in this tiny town’s library, but he can’t bring himself to move to the table in the middle of the room, or flip open the cover of any of the books, even though it’s something he normally enjoys. He sent Al out to walk around the town – he wonders if that makes him a bad brother. Al is probably too young to be out in a strange place by himself, but Ed just couldn’t make himself go with him, and he didn’t want Al to be in the room with him when he’s feeling like this. Of course, sending him away just made him feel like he has permission to feel worse, to break down without anyone else watching.

With every day that goes past, Ed wonders if their quest is useless; if they’re wasting their time on false hope, if they’re just prolonging their suffering. He doesn’t care about himself, but he can’t help but think about Al – always, always about Al, and the fact that he’s trapped in that metal armour because of a string of decisions that _Ed_ made. It’s his fault that his brother is like that.

He slouches against the wall and fights the urge to tell Al that they should go back home – not in the future, but _now._ Even so, he knows that if they went, he probably wouldn’t be able to leave again. And Al doesn’t deserve that. Not from him.

* * *

 

“Quick Ed! You can make it!”

Ed can’t spare the breath to call a response or even mutter under his breath – he’s sprinting flat out to try and grab onto Al’s hand. Al is leaning back out over the back of the train – if he misses this one the next isn’t until _next week_ and there’s no way he’s staying here that long.

With a final, desperate burst of speed, he launches himself into the air and Al grabs him, pulling him to safety. Ed gasps in air, greedy and desperate for it, his heart hammering, blood pounding. He feels alive.

“Yeah! You did it!” Al says, sounding cheerful. Ed can’t help but laugh a little, the chuckle coming naturally.

“Course I did, Al. You weren’t doubting me, were ya?”

“Not my big brother,” Al says proudly. Ed shakes his head and laughs and leans his head against Al’s cool shoulder.

“Of course, my awesome little brother helped too,” Ed says. Al makes a pleased sound and puts him down. Ed grabs the door and opens it, stepping inside. “Come on, Al – I bet that they’ll have a good cabin for us!”

“If you say so, brother!” Al says, following behind him, voice ringing high and happy. Ed looks over his shoulder and grins at him.

* * *

 

Ed kicks at the wall and swears when he hits his toe – can’t even do that right, he thinks maliciously to himself. He swaps to the other foot and kicks with his automail, but that just makes a metal sound against the stone. The jolt he feels isn’t in his foot, but higher up where the metal joins flesh, and is a much deeper pain. He swears again, jumping around pathetically because he doesn’t know which leg to hop on.

“Edward,” a calm voice says. Ed rounds to find Hawkeye in the door of the room he’d chosen to storm into, her face as dispassionate as always, but somehow still disapproving. Ed hates that he cares whether or not she approves of him, but blames that on the fact that he has no other female figures in his life and that he’s got permanent parental issues from trying to revive his mother and failing abysmally. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Ed spits, despite both his foot and thigh hurting. He really put effort into those kicks, and he’s kind of regretting it at the moment, but at the same time he isn’t. He’s frustrated, and the pain is an outlet that he can manage, can source to a single action that makes sense. Give and take. Action and reaction. Equivalent exchange. In the end, he always brings things back to alchemy. It just makes things simpler.

“The Colonel just wants what’s best for you,” Hawkeye tries to say.

“He wants what’s best for his career,” Ed interrupts, seething. “This dumb mission is going to take _months_ and it’s got no time for research, no time for anything but stupid military crap. As if I’ve got any interest in that.” If it was anyone but Hawkeye he wouldn’t be saying this, but she was there to see him at his lowest just after the human transmutation, she was there to give him advice and pads when he bled for the first time, and more often than not, she takes his side against Mustang and he actually _listens_ to her.

“This is an opportunity that won’t come again,” Hawkeye says. “It will be good for both you and the Colonel – I suspect that if you complete it, you won’t have to put in much more work this year for the military.”

Ed looks at her out of the corner of his eye suspiciously. “You’re not just saying that to get me to agree, are you?”

“I genuinely believe it,” Hawkeye says, that serious expression still attached to her face.

“Well, I don’t,” Ed mutters, but he ducks past her and heads back to Mustang’s office anyway. Even if he’s sure that there’s no way this is worth his time, he’s learned that there are some things in life that you just can’t get around.

* * *

 

Ed bends his head over the book, scribbling down his thoughts and summarisation of notes in his notebook. He’s sure that he’s on the trail of something here – if only the author wasn’t so vague, even in under their four layers of ciphers. This is an area that he’s only just begun to investigate, so he’s not particularly well versed in it yet, but he’s determined to learn.

He reads over a sentence a few times, something about it not settling right within him. After a few seconds he bites his tongue and lets his mind drift, taking what he can see and what he wants to know and what he wants to learn, and rifling through the depository of knowledge that seethes just beyond where his conscious mind can reach. The deep part of him that still knows and remembers everything the Gate showed him takes his question and rifles through what it knows, and after a few seconds Ed blinks and stares at the book again, before jumping up excitedly.

“Al!” he cries. “I think this solves the connection of body to spirit energy! I knew that looking into this would lead to something!”

“Show me!” Al demands, coming over, the clunking of his suit filling the small space of the room. Ed points out the relevant paragraph, nudging his notes over so that Al can read the cipher decryption, which Ed has done in plaintext.

Success burning in his chest, Ed leans over the book and reads.

* * *

 

“Okay, lift your arm for me?” Winry asks, tape measure in her hands. Ed does as she asks, staring at the ground of the small shop. His hometown is as quiet and placid as he remembers, the people as still and unchanging as the sheep on the hills. All of them except for Winry, of course – she’s fiery and full of life and energy that Ed sometimes feels like he can’t match. She’s a spark to his coal, forever alight where he splutters and fades.

“Wow, you have grown. I’m surprised,” Winry says in a teasing voice.

“Bout time,” Ed huffs, resisting the urge to fold his arms. He’s only wearing a bra so that Winry can check his shoulder as well, and not wearing a shirt is making him feel more exposed than normal. Obviously, Winry knows about him being _him_ , but it’s not like that makes him feel much better. It might just make him feel worse – like every second she doesn’t call him a girl is just suspense, waiting until the inevitable moment when she does.  

“You do need an upgrade on this automail.” Winry taps her wrench on her chin, looking thoughtful. Ed tries not to feel like one of her projects and fails. Maybe that’s why she likes having him around. He’s a project of hers, nothing else. Just something to be examined and pulled apart and fixed, an object to dissect, and then put away for later.

“I’ve been working on some things, and I think you’ll like em,” Winry says, winking at him. Ed manages to nod at her, and she hums as she disappears out the door. He’s picked the worst time to come back, but Hawkeye and Al have mentioned that his automail is starting to look a bit out of proportion, and even Ed has to admit that he’s grown and needs some adjustments. Two years is a long time.

Even though he knows he’s just going to make himself feel worse, he crosses over to the other side of the room and looks out the window. The lonely hill in the distance is bare, barren. Ed wonders if he’s imagining that he can still see some of the beams of their house.

Of course, he hemmed and hummed and put off coming back until now, because only his guilt and fear could drive him to leave again, like he did before. And the date on the paper in the kitchen matches the one he carved onto the lid of his watch, and he always feels worse at this time of year – he’s done this to himself. Even now, he wants to flee, to leave the evidence of what happened far, far behind.

Winry comes back in, and Ed sees her smile falter for a second when she realises that he’s staring out the window. Perhaps just like him, she’s feeling the impact of the day.

“Let’s get this done,” she suggests strongly. Ed looks back at the deserted hill in the distance, and knows that after this, there’s nothing that can stop him from running, yet again.

“Right,” he says to Winry, and turns away from the remnants of his past.

**Author's Note:**

> [The art that inspired this](http://emmmeralddd.tumblr.com/post/178642910739)


End file.
